Between Hello and Goodbye
by Splendidly Sarah
Summary: Steve, after seventy years, finally gets his dance.


He wished he could say the plane ride over was calming, but with every passing second, with every mile nearer to his destination, he can feel himself growing more nervous, more anxious, and more tempted to never leave the flight and head straight on to Berlin, which was the next flight stop.

But he didn't. Somehow he gained the strength to gather his things and exit the plane in London, taking a cab to the address he'd found where a certain someone resided.

It was in the suburbs—it was quiet and very unassuming. The house was little, the garden in the front kept up and the mailbox reading "Carter". This was it…and why he didn't want to walk up the steps was beyond him. He told himself to step back and stay away. He didn't want to give her a heart attack or better yet, he didn't want to have one.

He walked up the steps, giving the door a light knock before he thought better of it and ran away. At first he thought maybe she wasn't home…but his suspicions were denied when the door creaked open, and he thought the little lady in front of him had seen a ghost.

She wore glasses, thick rimmed and pink, hovering in front of a pair of still young and lively brown eyes, grey-white hair still curled and poised as if she'd not changed her style since he last saw her. Her face was dated, yes, but he could see it was very clearly her…he couldn't believe it to be anyone else.

"You're late." She said, her voice nearly the same, though age had taken its toll on that as well. "Might as well come in for tea." She opened the door for him, and he was slightly taken aback. She wasn't reacting like he thought she would…

Regardless, he stepped in, shutting the door closed behind him. "Peggy, I have to admit, you're taking this a lot better than I'd planned…" He was thankful, though…he didn't exactly want to call an ambulance.

"I was called by Howard's son, Anthony, when you were found in the ice. I dare say my shock has since worn off. Very little can surprise an old lady in this day and age." He understood that too well. "I assume you need some closure, Steven, which I hope to offer you." Yes, that is what he needed…but what he wanted was for her to say he was going to wake up from this and they were going to be back in Germany and he could tell her all of the things he was too stupid to before.

But that wouldn't happen.

"Let me help you with that." He said, earning him a slap across the hands.

"Steven Rogers, I do not need your help making tea. I've shot you before, do not make me resort to such tactics again." He gave her a shocked sort of laugh, followed by a yes, ma'am. She'd not changed at all. "If you want to be helpful, go sit at the table and look pretty." He laughed again, but did as he was told, taking a seat in the little dining room at the little table, and graciously accepted the tea when it was offered to him.

She sat across from him, fiddling with her glasses until she had them just so, and looked at him for seemingly the first time.

"Get it off your chest, Steven." She told him, taking a sip of her tea. It was obvious he had something to say…quite a few something's, rather.

"You never got married." He stated simply, looking at her hand.

"And you read my SHIELD file." Peggy retorted, unimpressed with his assumptions.

"Why?"

"The man I loved never proposed." She stated it simply, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Well, he's an idiot." Steve would have done it…had circumstance not gotten in the way.

"I dare say I question him at times. He's rather brilliant but didn't know a thing about women. Still doesn't, I'm afraid." He obviously wasn't getting it. "It's you, Steven. I want to spare myself the time…I haven't much left, I'm afraid, and the years have taught me to stop spending my time in fear and rather bask in the hope and glory that is life."

"I…" her little speech caught him off guard, and he blushed, focusing on his coffee. "I was going to ask you to come back to Brooklyn with me…they said we were going to be home by Christmas."

"We weren't…not for two more Christmases."

"What would you have said?" He asked.

"I won't do this to you, Steven." His eyebrows furrowed, confusion setting in. "That was seventy years ago. We were young, and that was a life that was never meant for us. I'm afraid nothing was ever meant for Steve and Peggy save a few special moments locked away in time. But that's done. Our time has long since passed."

Steve had never had a broken heart before, nor had he ever felt quite so dejected. "I know. I understand that…but I need closure, Peggy."

"What would you like me to say?"

"Answer my question."

"Stubborn as ever, I see." She sighed, "What was your question, again?"

"Would you have come back to Brooklyn with me? Would you have danced with me, gone to the Stork Club and pretended to be a celebrity for a night? Would you have married me? I just…I need to know what I missed."

Setting her cup down in her saucer, she looked down, age seemingly gathering on her features. "Yes, I would have gone to Brooklyn with you. I would have gone without you asking in hopes that perhaps you might have one day wanted something between us. I would have married you, so long as you were willing to put up with me." She didn't reply about the dance right away, instead looking over to a picture on the wall.

"That's my niece. Her name is Sharon…she works over at SHIELD. A little spitfire, she is." He looked over to the picture and nodded.

"Takes after you, I suppose."

"Very much so…which is why I want you to talk to her when we're through here. She will have so very much to tell you. I do think she is half in love with the idea of Captain America." She chuckled, finding interest in her tea again. "Us Carter's and our men."

"Please don't tell me you're trying to pawn me off to your niece." he groaned. This wasn't going where he wanted it to go.

"How dare you think such a thing! I am simply telling you a story."

"Yeah, well, you're hinting."

"I'm much too old for hints, as are you."

"Dance with me." He said…if they were too old for hinting, then he wouldn't.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dance with me. I know I'm a bit late…"

After a moment of contemplation, she rose from her chair, digging around under he saw her pull out a record, placing it on an old phonograph. "Something slow…" A sweet melody from his childhood wafted through the home, and he stood, taking her hand in his into her living room. "Your hand goes here," She told him as she placed it on her middle back, "And the other here." He held her hand, and he led her in slow circles around the living room, closing his eyes and imagining it how it should have been…

Red dress and almost-red hair, the noise of the Stork Club and the stale smell of cigarettes and fruity cigars. Heads buzzing with a few too many cocktails, the music performed from a live band, the lights dim and low. He would have worn his old uniform, his army one, and people would gaze from all around the room, proclaiming they'd never seen quite a couple. He would lean in, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and she would laugh, a hopeful promise of what was to come. He would be brave, press a chaste kiss to her lips, and fight back his nerves as she did the same. The song would be long over, but the two of them…they would go on, dancing to some unheard tune, humming along to something only the two of them could hear. She would be happy, he would think he'd never seen anyone or anything quite so beautiful.

But it wasn't.

It was closure for something that hardly was and never could be. It was heartbreak before healing, something that needed to be done.

And then it was over.

A few sorrowful tears on both sides, a goodbye kiss to the forehead, and hopes that they might see each other once more.

Steve would be sitting in Brooklyn when the news came a week later. It came by phone, because no one wanted to be there when he found out.

"Captain Rogers? We are sorry to inform you that Agent Margaret Carter has passed away. We offer our condolences."

So brief, so fleeting is life, is love. So often is it accompanied by heartache. Yet in that moment, Steve Rogers was sure that no one but him had suffered such a loss, had felt such a pain, over what could have been…

But wasn't.


End file.
